


Circus of Dreams

by UniquelyBee



Category: The Greatest Showman - Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-04-13 15:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14115651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniquelyBee/pseuds/UniquelyBee
Summary: OK, so, hi, it's been a while. Here's my fic in a neat lil bow for you while I write the next chapter.





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so, hi, it's been a while. Here's my fic in a neat lil bow for you while I write the next chapter.

Philip’s eyes fluttered open, flicking from side to side, scanning the unfamiliar room and all of the contents. The windows were unveiled, their curtains hanging delicately on both of their sides, swaying slightly from the open windows. A cool breeze slithered in from the outdoors, bringing in the scent of the streets. A yellowish light spilled into the room, coating everything in its pale color. Beds lay next to each other in rows against the cream like walls on the longer sides of the room. People lay in the beds, all of them ill or bandaged. Some of their infirmaries looked painful, but some of them only looked very minor. Philip blinked, turning his head to look around the room, that was beginning to look all too familiar. Now he knew. This was the hospital room he had woken up in after he inhaled too much smoke when he ran into the fire. His head froze in complete fear when he saw who was sitting in the bed next to his, staring at him with their piercing blue eyes.  
“Mother?”  
Philip’s mother nodded, tears pricking at the corner of her bloodshot, tired eyes. Her lips where twitching at the corners, a slight smile threatening to break out onto her face. Philip was shocked, his mother was never like this with him. Last time he saw her, she was criticizing him about Anne and the circus and all of the things he loved. Why was she here at the hospital with him? More importantly, why was he at the hospital?  
“Mother, why are you here?” Philip asked, a slight edge to his tone.  
His mother looked hurt, an expression that was so rare, he had only seen it once before. Philip was even more confused, his mind racing with thoughts that were like puzzle pieces that were impossible to fit together. Wasn’t she still mad at him because of Anne? Did she forget about the circus too? Philip’s muddled theories and assessments were cut off by his mother finally speaking, her voice unusually shaky and-oddly enough-happy. Happy.  
“Why wouldn’t I be, sweetheart?” Sweetheart. That made him sick to his stomach. She was so fake sometimes, actually most of the time. “You passed out. You wouldn’t wake up for over two months.”  
Philip shook his head. She was lying. Over two months ago, he was here, at this same hospital- in the exact same bed- after the fire. Why would she lie about something like this? She’s trying to trick me, he thought. She wants me to think that I left the circus for a month so that I will come home with her. She just wants something alive to take her anger out on!  
“Why exactly am I here?” Philip inquired coolly.  
“Like I said, you passed out. Alcohol poisoning or something like that, I’m not too sure.”  
“Not too sure?”  
“I wasn’t the one who brought you here. Some filthy peasant brought you here, then came and told us. Apparently, she recognized you and us.”  
“Oh.” Philip was beyond confused now. Who brought him here? Anne? No, she would recognize her, or anyone for the circus for that matter. Charity, he thought, but she wasn’t a “peasant.” She was more upper class than lower class. “What did she happen to look like?”  
“I don’t remember much, Philip, but she had darker skin. She was rather pretty for a poor woman.”  
Philip was offended, but tried his best to hide it. He turned away from her, struggling to hold himself back from whipping around and punching her as hard as he could in her idiotic nose. She was pretending to not know who Anne was, the woman who she had slandered in front of him around a month ago. The woman she hit him, punched him and even tried to starve him in his room for days because of Anne. Because he loved Anne. He was glad he now had an apartment with her, so that he had a place to hide away with her, away from all of the hateful glares of the aristocrats. An angry rosy blush crept onto his cheeks and he clenched his fist so tight, his knuckles were white and his tendons poked out of the back of his hands like hills in a pale, off-white field.  
His mother placed an unusually gentle hand on his strong shoulder. Philip tensed, his back straightening. His mother was always the nicer of his parents, but that didn’t make her nice. She would always slap him, every time he made a mistake, even though most of them were barely noticeable. But, she was weaker than his father, so it always hurt less. He grabbed her hand and took it off of his shoulder, placing it onto her lap as gently as she put it on Philip’s shoulder.  
“Come on, you’re up now, let’s pay and go home.”  
“Home, mother?” Philip hissed turning his head around to glower at his mother. “I don’t think I will be going home with you.”  
Philip stood up, placing a cold, soft hand on his head, noticing a slight, dull pain in the front of his head. It felt like a thudding, hitting the front of his skull in some form of pattern. He scowled at his mother, looking at him with an aggrieved look on her face.  
“Fine,” she growled. “Go off onto the streets, it’s not like you have your own house anyway.”  
Philip laughed. “I’ll go to the Barnum’s, at least they accept me there!”  
A look of genuine confusion spread across Mrs. Carlyle’s face. It was like she didn’t remember the Barnum’s. This is a part of her plan, he surmised. She’s acting like the circus doesn’t exist!  
“Who are the Barnums?” she asked.  
“From the circus, mother!” Philip yelled.  
“What the hell is the circus?!” She shouted back at him, her voice flooded with frustration and confusion.  
Philip rose to his feet, beginning to feel the eyes of the other patients and doctors burning deep into his back. He could feel blisters bubbling on his back from their blazing glares. A chill ran up his spine, not from the cold, but from his mothers icy glare. She looked upset, furious, yet also, a little content. She had a slight smug smirk spread on her face. Her glare, it hurt the most.  
Her smirk melted and she stood up, walking closer towards him. She lifted her hand and slapped him across his face as had as her weak arms would let her. Small, quiet gasps arose from some of the watching patients. Glares shifted from Philip’s back to his mothers. The glares became more hostile, obviously burning under his mothers pale skin. She began to shake, giving Philip another, weaker slap, while everyone was watching her. Philip placed his hand on his cheek, as if it hurt him. Partially to make his mother feel better, but mostly to make the patients hate his mother just a little more. He took his hand off of his cold cheek, looked at it as if her was bleeding, then icily glaring at his mother.  
“I believe,” he growled deeply, staring his mother in her eyes, challenging her to speak back to him, “we’re done here.”  
He turned away from his mother, seeing everyone’s sympathetic looks as he stormed past them, past the doctors, and into the changing room. Swiftly and with as much intent as somebody who was trying to save the world, he changed out of his hospital gown and into his normal suit. As soon as he was done, he sped out into the lobby. Before he opened the door, he caught a glimpse of someone, someone familiar. Somebody who was more like a mother to him than his own mother. She was looking at her feet, worry creased onto her face. She was fidgeting with her hands, and Philip thought he could see the shine of sweat on her forehead. As if sensing he was there, her head popped up and she look directly at Philip, who swiftly began to walk out of the hospital, averting his eyes from the way too familiar face.  
And though he was sure it was just post coma insanity, he swore he saw Charity Barnum waiting for someone, something at the hospital.


	2. Run

Philip stumbled out of the hospital, his eyes wide with shock. He saw Charity Barnum at the hospital, he swore he did. His heart was racing at a million miles per hour. Sweat trickled down his neck, a feeling of fear creeping along his spine. Why was she in there? Was PT sick? What about Helen? Caroline? Philip’s fears began to grow, flooding every corner of his head.  
The air was cool outside, the wind just increasing the chill. He shivered a bit, pulling his overcoat closer to his body. He wondered through the streets, dodging past the slower pedestrians. He could feel the occasional stare from his parent’s friends or the people that recognized him from the circus or his plays. Maybe they had all heard that he had been in the hospital for a bit. Maybe they still haven’t forgiven him for joining the circus. Philip wished he could turn invisible, or at least to have some way to make them stop staring.  
Philip weaved through the crowds, stepping around kids and pushing past adults. He finally reached the street that he wanted to get to. The market street, where all of the shops were. Philip looked around, to see if there was anyone in need he could bring to the circus. The roads were cluttered with carriages, and the sidewalks were clogged with people out for their daily routines. The poor people begged for food and money as people simply strode past them. Philip’s eyes fell onto a small, dark skinned little boy, who was standing in front of an alley.   
He was begging a woman to get him food, for him and his mother. The woman stared down at him, almost twice his size. She shook her head and continued walking, away from the boy, away from where Philip assumed his mother was. Philip shook his head, and turned to the baker’s stand right beside him. He held out a coin to the man, who, in turn, gave Philip a loaf of bread. It was still warm, the scent of it filling Philip’s nose. Philip began to walk towards the boy, who just now noticed him. The boy gave him a crooked smile. Philip was now kneeling in front of the boy, holding out the piece of bread.  
“Here,” Philip murmured to the boy.  
The boys smile grew even wider, so did his eyes. “Thank you, sir!”  
The boy ran down the alley, and Philip’s gaze followed the boy as he ran towards a figure standing in the alley, supposedly his mother.  
“Phineas!” she called to him. “Good job!”  
The boy giggled and jumped into the woman’s arms, the bread still held in his hand. The woman kissed his cheek, then placed him back down onto the ground.  
“Now, did you say thank you to the person who gave it to you?”  
The boy nodded; the woman held him closer. She laughed a little to her son.  
“Of course you did, now it’s my turn to get something.” She let go of her son, straightening her back and walking towards the entrance of the alley.   
Philip stumbled away from the entrance as the woman approached it. He hadn’t caught her face yet, but something about her was familiar, and he definitely recognized that voice. The woman looked forward and sat down on the pavement, beginning to beg. Philip gasped. How had he no recognized her before? He knew who she was, he should have recognized her, he should have.   
“Anne!” he called to her, tripping on his feet towards her.  
Anne spun around in bewilderment. Her eyes were wider than the ocean, full of confusion and fear. Philip felt the same as her now, why didn’t she recognize him? She stood up as he got close to her and backed away from him, nervously. She was shaking so violently by now, that she couldn’t walk straight, causing her to trip on her own feet. She stumble, and Philip helped steady her a bit.  
“H-how do you know my name?” she inquired, stuttering nervously.  
“Anne, it’s me. Philip?”   
Anne shook her head, her curls bouncing on her face. “I-I don’t- who are you?”  
Philip felt hurt, his knees almost buckling in fear. Was Anne okay? Philip was addled, his breathing becoming shallower and shallower at the moment, the more he looked at Anne’s fearful face. Phineas ran to Anne, grabbing onto her leg protectively. Anne placed her hand on the boys head, gazing down at him and smiling weakly. She nodded, rubbing his head gently.  
“A-Anne..” Philip muttered, almost falling over in shock. Since when did Anne have a kid? And who’s kid was he? “When..? How..?”  
Phineas looked up at Philip and grinned, pointing towards him.   
“That’s the man that gave me the bread!” he giggled.  
Anne looked up towards him, smiling slightly. “Did he?”  
Philip blushed, looking down at his feet. Anne laughed, wrapping her arms around Philip.  
“Thank you,” she murmured, letting him go and slinking back into the alley, Phineas trailing behind her, waving at Philip as he walked.  
Philip inhaled a shaky, frightened breath. He placed his hand on his chest, trying to slow down his heart rate. He was baffled. Anne didn’t recognize him, she had a kid and she no longer lived with him. Philip felt sick. He felt like he was going to faint. Maybe I should just go back to the hospital, he thought, swaying from side to side.   
Philip trudged towards his place of comfort. The place he went whenever he was stressed, after his shows. PT invited him to join the circus there, he convinced Anne to live with him there. He was going to the bar, even though it was only the late afternoon. But, first, Philip needed to do something. Something that would keep him away from his parents for longer.

Philip sat at the bar, downing a shot of whiskey. His mind was still on Anne and on Charity. Today had been insane, way more insane than any other day he had ever had. He beckoned for another shot and the bartender slid it in the direction of Philip. Philip drank it. It was cold and it burned the back of his throat. He coughed, closing his eyes and wiping the drink from his lips. He slammed the glass onto the bar top, it making a loud clink and a thud.  
The bartender slid another, and another, and another. Philip drank all of them, one after the other. His world was spinning, but he still had Charity and Anne on his mind. They lingered, no matter how many shots he took. He couldn’t push them away. They surrounded his brain, wrapping themselves around it like snakes curling around their prey. Philip placed his head on the counter top. He tapped his hand on the table, signaling the bartender to give him another shot. The bartender pushed another shot glass toward him, as well as the entire whiskey bottle. They hissed as they skated, stopping in front of him. Philip began to pour another shot, heavily sighing as he picked his head up from the bar top.   
He took another burning shot and slammed his glass down, as well as his head. He began to think again, his intoxicated mind wandering to strange places, and Anne places. He groaned painfully, his throat felt like he was drinking fire now. He tried to pour another glass, but his hands shook so much, he spilled all over the table. Closing his eyes tightly, Philip gritted his teeth. This wasn’t working. He was going to get alcohol poisoning, but having a seizure would definitely take his mind off of things.   
Philip began pouring a slightly steadier shot than the last, exhaling as he did so. He put down the whiskey bottle and held the shot glass with an unsteady hand. Just as it touched his lips and poured into his mouth, a cool glass was pushed to his arm. He turned his head to see a familiar face pushing a glass of water towards Philip.  
“Easy, son, we don’t want you getting hurt now, do we?”


	3. Drunken Babbling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a short one.

Phillip looked at the glass that pressed against his arm. It was water, cold water. Suddenly, Phillip’s throat burned even more, begging for him to take a sip. He took the glass, bringing it up to his dry, cracked lips and took a long, satisfying sip. He slammed the glass onto bar top with so much force he could have cracked the glass.  
He turned his head slowly to face the man who had gave him the glass. He instantly recognized the face as the man who had given him a true home.   
“B-Ba-” Phillip began coughing, cutting himself off.  
“Easy, kid, take a breath.” He spoke calmly, his voice was steady.   
Phillip inhaled slowly, realizing the pain in his entire body. His eyes widened and he collapsed onto the table, groaning loudly as his head fell. The man chuckled to himself softly. He placed a hand on Phillip’s shoulder, rubbing it slightly.  
“You’ve drank a lot. You should lay off the whiskey. Just for a bit.”  
“Mmmm,” Phillip agreed, nodding slightly. He turned his head to look at the man again. The man had brown hair and warm hazel eyes. “What brings you here?”  
“Oh, uh, my wife…” the man stuttered, “she decided to… leave me. For another man.”  
“Charity left you?” Phillip asked, too drunk so seem outraged.  
“Who’s Charity?”  
“Charity,” Phillip enunciated.  
“Son, I don’t know anybody named Charity.”  
“Oh,” Phillip murmured into the crook of his arm. “Sorry.”  
The man laughed, shaking Phillip gently and playfully. He stuck his hand out for Phillip to shake. “The name’s Cassius Artindale.”  
“Phillip Carlyle.” Phillip shook his hand.  
Cassius- he thought. I could have sworn… isn’t that Barnum? Phillip shook his head, closing his eyes. Phillip was lost in his tired, intoxicated thoughts. He was befuddled. Nothing was making sense that day. He yawned, a feeling of tiredness rushing over him.  
Cassius laughed. “You should get home. You seem tired.”  
“Home,” Phillip hissed. “I’m not going home, that place isn’t even a home as long as my parents exist.”  
Cassius looked away, focusing on nothing but his thoughts. Then, his head flicked to look at Phillip. “Would you like to come to my place for tonight?”  
“How do I know you won’t try to kill me?” Phillip asked drunkenly.  
Cassius laughed again, standing up with a hand on Phillip’s shoulder. “Come on,” he chuckled. “Come with me.”


	4. Chapter 4

It was the house. The same house Barnum lived in. Charity must be in there, this must be some sick joke on Barnum and Anne and his mother's part. Phillip would open the door and Caroline and Helen would come running out, he knew that. And then, this nightmare of a prank would be over. 

"Come on now," Barnum, no, Cassius nudged Phillip towards the door. "Don't want to catch a cold, now, do we?"

Phillip shook his head and stumbled his way through the door. The house was void of children, the only sound was the sharp barking of a dog. Phillip observed the house that was identical to the Barnum's house, probably because it was their home. Although, the dog was new. 

"Oh, be quiet, Leo!" A voice that Phillip automatically guessed to be Charity's yelled from the kitchen. 

The dog quickly stopped his barking. He turned and jumped on Cassius as soon as he walked through the door. Phillip stared in bewilderment, but also amazement. 

"W-when did you get a dog?" Phillip stuttered, his heart dropping with the feeling of doubt that this was a joke.

"I'd say two years ago," Cassius replied, running his large hands through the dog's long, black fur. 

"Three," the woman's voice said, now at the entrance to the kitchen. It definitely wasn't anyone Phillip had ever seen. "We got him three years ago."

"Thank you, Carolyn. Oh, uh, this is Phillip," Cassius gestured to Phillip, who stood looking around in amazement. "Phillip, this is my daughter, Carolyn."

"Hello," Phillip squeaked, his voice held back by the lump in his throat. Was this a joke? It had started to seem like it wasn't. 

"Hi," Carolyn said cheerfully. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"Actually," Cassius stood up, stretching his back, "he's staying the night, or for a couple of nights."

"And how long have you two been friends?" Carolyn asked. She placed a hand on her hip and looked at her father. 

"An hour, I'd say."

"Oh my lord, papa." Carolyn placed her hand on her forehead, shaking her head in disapproval. "This is the fourth time this has happened in, what? A month? Soon we'll be running a hotel!"

"I swear this is the last time."

"The last time?" Carolyn laughed. "Yeah, right."

"Well, he's our guest now. And he can stay as long as he'd like."

"As long as he doesn't overstay his welcome." Carolyn strode out of the room, her brown hair that was slung over her shoulders falling to her back. "Don't forget, papa, we have to go to that... meeting."

"You say that so ominously, Carolyn. Phillip is our plus one," Cassius teased before pivoting around to face Phillip. "You will come, right?"

Phillip nodded. He was still shaken and confused. Was if this wasn't a joke? No, it had to be. That girl wasn't Barnum's or Cassius' or whatever his name was. She wasn't his child. 

"Perfect," Cassius clapped Phillip on the back, pushing him out of his thoughts. "Now, how about we go see your room?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't posted in forever! I'm so sorry!~

Phillip stumbled drunkenly through the streets, the cold night air clawing through his thin coat. He shivered slightly, the corners of his vision blurring from all of the alcohol in his system. He was wasted again. It was the same as every other night. The migraine that pounded at the back of his head distracted him. It was begging to get out, yearning to break through his skull and run away, leaving Phillip a bloody mess against the brick wall he sat against. 

He let a grunt out of his throat. It drifted along the seemingly empty streets. The darkness seemed to cave in over the echoes, creeping closer to Phillip. He shivered again, pulling his coat closer to his body. He couldn't get up and find his way to Cassius's house without getting lost in another neighbor's yard. Plus, every bone in his body ached like hell. Phillip just wanted to go home and go to sleep, without worrying about the hangover he'd have to endure the next dreadful morning. He groaned just thinking about it, a little louder than his grunt. It bounced off the walls with more force and strength.

"Hey."

Phillip nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the familiar woman's voice right next to him. He didn't even hear the clicking of her shoes against the cobblestone roads. Maybe it was because she had no shoes.

"Oh, Anne," Phillip giggled, looking up at the pretty girl. "Finally came back for me, my love?"

"Yeah, don't give yourself so much credit, hon. I just heard you and decided to check it out." Anne slid down the wall and sat next to Phillip. "Now, you'd better quiet down, or you'll wake up Phin."

"Phineas is way back over there," Phillip hiccuped, pointing in the direction of the house he was staying in. "Over with Charity and the kids and..."

Anne laughed a sweet laugh. One that sounded like music to Phillip, filling his heart with a warm sensation. Her laugh was infectious, causing a drunken grin to spread across his pale face.

"I meant my son, Phineas, not your friend or whatever. It's sad that you went drinking alone again," Anne sighed.

"What do you mean 'again?' You haven't seen me at all this week."

"You don't remember, do you? Of course you don't, you were drunk. I brought you to the hospital after a heavy night of drinking. Of course, I had to drag you there. My arms were sore for an entire month afterward, let me tell you."

"So, you brought me there. Did you also convince everyone to lie to me?"

"Lie to you? No, no, I don't know anyone you know. Hell, I barely know you."

Phillip scoffed. "Don't know me? You love me."

"What? I don't know you, how can I love you?"

Phillip turned to Anne, leaning towards her and pressing his lips against hers. Surprisingly enough, she kissed back, wrapping her arms around his neck. Phillip wrapped his arms around her skinny waist, thinned down from years of eating as little as possible. Anne pulled away, leaving Phillip to whimper in complaint. She giggled, slipping out of Phillip's grasp and helping him up.

"Okay, come on. Let's get you home."


End file.
